


Duke of Pain

by Afaxis (SparksOut)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:53:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparksOut/pseuds/Afaxis
Summary: There are many girls who imagine Ramsay would love them, protect them, care for them above all. That for some reason, they'd be safe from his cruel tastes.They aren't.(I'll update the tags as they become relevant. Smut is planned for chapter 2)





	Duke of Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I'll put [SMUT] at the beginning of chapter that include smut, in case you're just here for the sex.

It was a dark and cruel day, but they all were. The sky hung dark and pregnant over the Dreadfort, the sun barely bleeding. Yin chose her steps carefully, avoiding deep puddles and leading the two large geldings out to the nearest pasture. The one to her left, a huge black beast, snorted and tossed his head as the one on her right accidentally knocked into him with his flank. Yin cracked the lead, snapping the end of it at him to calm him down. The black horse rolled his eyes at her, but otherwise ignored the one to his right. 

Yin walked them into the pasture, and unclipped their halters. They immediately took off running, kicking up clods of mud and tossing their heads, running in frantic circles. The constant thunder had kept them in, and they were more than happy to have a chance to stretch their legs. 

Yin dropped her arm, where she’d been blocking her eyes from the flying mud, and turned to leave the pasture. This was yet another dress covered in mud stains, and she was quickly running out of clean ones. She would have to go up to the fort to do laundry, unfortunately. She walked back to the small house she shared with the other stablehands, and threw off her soiled dress. It landed on a pile of identical dressed with a muted thump, and Yin pulled on a new one. She picked up the wicker basket of soiled dresses, and headed up to the fort. 

The main five girls were there, bent over the washing basin and already chittering to one another. Avya sat closest to her, scrubbing lazily at some oil stains on a smock. Her long blonde hair had been pleated back, but a few strands fell into her face. Yin sighed at her; she was a beauty, tall and long with a face full of angles and cheekbones. 

“You know he’s available, right?” Avya said conspiratorially to the shortish brunette sitting to her left. 

The brunette, who Yin knew as Brandis, nodded. “Ever since Myranda’s father sold her a few of Ramsay’s hounds to that useless southern lordling.” Brandis looked around, as though checking to make sure Ramsay himself wasn’t there to hear her gossipping. “Are you going to make a move on him?”

Elison, with her jet black hair and cruel eyes, chimed in there. “She would never. Ramsay wouldn’t have her. What are you Avya, just a cook’s daughter?” She said with a nasty smile. 

Yin pretended not to hear them as she scrubbed at a particularly difficult stain on one of her dresses. The other girls paid her no heed, as they always had. 

Avya sat up, all pretence of pretending to wash her clothes lost. “At least I’m not the daughter of some stinking tanner, Elison.” She said, looking pointedly at the leather coat Elison was oiling. 

Cliara, beautiful, quiet Cliara, chimed in then. “We’re all peasants. What makes you think he wants any of us?” She said in her quiet, sing-song voice. Yin looked over at her, watching her sad blue eyes beseech Elison for mercy. 

Elison opened her mouth again, but withered under Cliara’s gaze. “Myranda was just his kennel master.” She replied lamely. 

“Yes, but Ramsay loves those hounds more than anything, we all know that. His love for Myranda was just an extension of that.” Cliara said, calmly. 

Delylah who had, up until that point, been stubbornly scrubbing at a mud stain along the hem of one of her dresses, spoke up. “Well I think he’s just looking for the prettiest girl in the fort now.” She said, sitting up a little straighter and sticking out her boobs in a self-satisfied manner. 

Yin tried her best to stifle her laugh. Delylah was awfully lucky for her looks, because she certainly wasn’t being served in any other departments. But the group of girls had lapsed into silence, each of them considering the prince of the Dreadfort and where his interests would stray next. Yin pitied whichever girl went after him. 

Being a stablehand, she’d worked with Myranda on any occasion Ramsay decided to go out hunting with his hounds. She’d seen the bruises, cuts, and scabs that littered that poor girl’s body. If Ramsay loved her, it hadn’t stopped him from hurting her as he did anyone else. She’d also seen Ramsay, coming back from hunting, covered in far more blood than is necessary. 

Of course, Yin had also heard the rumors. And the screams. There was no one in the Dreadfort who thought Ramsay was a Prince Charming, just waiting to sweep another girl off her feet. 

Except, of course, the five girls now crowded around the washing basin. A scream echoed through the Dreadfort then, clattering against the walls and digging into their brains. None of them flinched, but their washing slowed as they waited for the scream to end. 

“You think that someone who enjoys torture is capable of loving anyone?” Yin asked. 

Cliara shook her head slowly, but didn’t respond. Yin knew Cliara wasn’t dumb enough to think Ramsey would love her. She might be poor enough though. Yin hoped for her sake she never had to make that choice. 

But of course, it was Delylah who was the first to speak up. “As a matter of fact, yes. Ramsay only hurts his enemies. He’d fiercely protect me from anyone who tried to hurt me.” She said, sticking out her lip. 

One of the older women on the other side of the basin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Ramsay’s favourite people to hurt were the ones who loved him. Because they just always kept coming back for more. 

Avya shook her head. “He’s protective, but only in that he’s jealous. If he ever hurt me, I’d just threaten to leave him. He’d love me, he’d do anything for me.” She said, wistfully. 

“Girl if you go making threats to the Duke of Pain, it’s not gonna go well.” The older woman from across the basin said. 

Cliara giggled, but stifled it into a cough. Cliara had been something like friends with Myranda, not that Myranda really had friends. Cliara had offered her a home and kindness if she ever needed it, despite Myranda’s wickedness. None of them deserved Cliara, the Dreadfort didn’t deserve Cliara. 

“You know nothing of the way he loves. He’d never love an old crone like you.” Ellison said, sneering at the old woman. 

“And thank the gods for that.” She simply responded, lapsing back into silence. 

Ramsay walked out of the fort then, and Yin wouldn’t put it past him that he’d been listening. He was attended by a new kennelmaster, a young boy who seemed absolutely petrified by the snapping hounds whose leashes he tenuously held. Ramsay didn’t spare a glance for any of them, but simply strode to the edge of the fort and left, his quivering kennelmaster in attendance. 

The older woman clucked in disapproval, stating “That boy is gonna get eaten by those dogs before the week is out. Mark my words.”

Yin scrubbed the last of the stains out of the last dress, and threw it back onto the pile. She stood and left, conscious of the girls’ eyes on her as she left, but she didn’t look back. She left the fort, and headed back down the road to the stables. She spotted Ramsay headed towards the forest, his black form cutting a noticable figure against the white snow that coated the rolling hills. He was on a horse, and he’d stuck the poor kennelmaster on a much smaller horse beside him. His hounds milled around between them, sniffing the ground and occasionally snapping at one another. Then Ramsay gave a whistle, and the hounds shot off into the woods, with Ramsay hot behind them and his poor kennelmaster, who Yin now saw was a terrible rider, trailing behind him. 

Yin shook her head, agreeing with the older woman’s words: if the hounds didn’t eat him, the horse would kill him. Poor boy. But there was nothing to be done for Ramsay’s toys; Yin knew he enjoyed seeing the boy struggle, and had no interest in replacing him with a more competent one. 

Yin walked up to the clothesline, and began stringing up her dripping dresses. She saw now that she hadn’t perfectly removed all the stains, but she’d done well enough. Afterall, they simply needed to keep her warm and be reasonably presentable. She had nicer dresses she never wore tucked into the back of a drawer, if she ever had an occasion to be fancy. 

She heard screaming from the forest, and the baying of hounds. Yelling, followed by some high pitched screams that could’ve only been the boy’s. Yin spared a moment to pity him, then resumed hanging the dresses. There was nothing she could do for him. At the Dreadfort, Ramsay’s authority was absolute. 

It was only after Yin had finished hanging her dresses and headed into the stable that she heard Ramsay return. He rode directly into the stable, his massive war horse’s hooves clattering against the cobbles. Yin spun around, putting down the basket of feed and rushing over to assist him. She didn’t relish it, but she was the only one around. Ramsay slid gracefully from the stallion’s back, and tossed the reins to her. 

“See he is cooled down properly. The kennelboy had an accident and we had to return rather early.” He said, staring intently at Yin. 

She nodded, keeping a wary eye on the war horse’s face. She’d seen him take off fingers. He, like his master, enjoyed testing boundaries. “I will, Ser Ramsey.” Yin said, nodding to him. 

Ramsay opened his mouth to say something else, but a scream cut through the air. Ramsay closed his mouth into a smile, and took a step towards her. Yin backed up, but backed into Ramsay’s warhorse. The beast snapped at her, and she jumped away, straight into Ramsay. She tried to step to the side, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back. Yin’s heart was thudding now, her eyes wide and he pulse hammering in her ears. 

The warhorse was a beast, and she was terrified of it. Ramsay, she felt, lacked the proper respect for it. And it was much more difficult to be a stable hand without all your fingers. So she stood, glaring into Ramsay’s eyes as she stood chest to chest with him. She grit her teeth and glared at him, and though his face had lost its smile, his eyes were filled with a sadistic mirth. This situation was unavoidable because he had caused it to happen. 

“Oh, and make sure he’s taken care of properly. I would hate for him to be unhappy because then there would have to be repercussions.” He said, smiling. He took a step forward, pinning her against the warhorse. It snuffed and shook its head, stamping its massive feet only inches from hers. 

Yin wanted to plead, wanted to beg Ramsay to step back and give her some space. But she knew that’s what he wanted; that doing that would only encourage him. So she swallowed her fear and merely said “Yes, ser.” 

Ramsay stood there a few moments longer, staring into her eyes and enjoying her fear, before he quickly took a step back and turned away, leaving the way he had come without so much as a backward glance. 

Yin waited until he was out of sight, then let her breath out in a huff. The war horse stamped his huge hoof again, and Yin snapped back to reality. How any of the girls could think he would love them, would ever be kind… Yin had no idea. She swallowed hard, and led the war horse out of the barn. 

She mounted on the nearest fence, and led the horse to a ring. He snapped at her feet and threw his head constantly, alternating between ignoring her demands to stop or refusing to move. He wasn’t stubborn; he was actively a dick. 

Ramsay would never ride a horse that constantly defied him. Yin thought to herself. She’d have to ride him like Ramsay did; cruel and hard. She wasn’t wearing spurs, sadly. But the next time he threatened to buck and shook his head, Yin snapped him on the neck with the reins, hard. The great warhorse snorted but calmed down, allowing her to walk him calmly for about ten minutes before he tried to bite off her toes again. This time she tore on the reins, forcing the bit back into his mouth, tweaking his sensitive teeth. He settled down again, long enough for her to sufficiently cool him off. 

Of course Ramsay rides a horse he constantly gets to abuse. A beast that gives him a good reason to wear razor-tipped spurs and crack the reins. The beast had a foul personality to match his master’s. Yin made a mental note to grab spurs the next time she saw Ramsay ride out. 

She got back in, and she saw the poor kennelboy sitting with his head down in front of the stable. He heard her return, and his head snapped up. He scrambled to get out of her way, and Yin slid down as she approached the doors. The warhorse threw his head, and she cracked him on the neck with the reins. 

“Follow me.” She said to the kennelboy, walking the warhorse to the crossties. She switched his bridle out for a halter, and was startled to see dried blood on the bit. Looking over the black body of the horse, she noticed much more of what looked like blood stains. But no open wounds; the blood wasn’t from the war horse. She sighed at the extra work, and hung the bridle up on the wall. Then she began removing the rest of his tack. 

The kennelboy was still staring at her, and still had not said anything. He was not an ugly boy; maybe mid twenties, average height, fair haired and grey eyed. But those grey eyes were ringed with dark circles, and bright with fear. His lips were covered in bite marks and cracks, where he had licked and chewed on them. 

“What do you want?” Yin said, trying her best not to sound short. 

He stared at her for a few more moments, then looked at the ground. “Ramsay said you are to teach me how to ride, since I’m such a miserable failure.” 

Yin scanned the boy again, and noticed red bruises along his arms that disappeared up under his clothes. They were a pale red, and just beginning to form. Yin clenched her jaw, a spike of anger lashing through her heart. Ramsay couldn’t expect the boy who tended his hounds to be a good horseman. It’s like expecting a cook to know how to make shoes, just because both work with animals. 

“I can help you, but not now. I have to get his horse cleaned, then all of its tack, and that’s going to take me more than an hour. Come back in the evening, and I’ll start teaching you.” The kennelboy looked at her in fear, and she amended, “Or you can sit there while I do this, and I’ll explain things to you. And we can actually ride this evening.” She figured the poor boy was trying to avoid Ramsay. 

He nodded, watching with wide eyes as she pulled the saddle from the war horse’s back. She slid it on to a holder built into the wall, and walked the war horse to a wash stall. And so she spent the next couple of hours, first washing the war horse and furiously scrubbing blood from its black hide, then scrubbing blood from the leather of Ramsay’s saddle. All the while, explaining the concepts of horsemanship to the poor, scrawny kennelboy. 

As she put away the saddle, a courier came down to the stables. “Lord Ramsay demands the return of his kennelboy. He also wants to see whichever stable hand saw fit to keep him for so long.” The courier said, eyeing Yin. 

Yin received this news without emotion. She just prayed that this had to do with the practical matter of not having a useless idiot for a kennelboy, and nothing to do with him wanting to antagonize her further. 

Knowing Ramsay though, it was probably both. Yin put the last of Ramsay’s tack away, and followed the courier up the steps to the Dreadfort. She saw the five girls, Avya, Brandis, Cliara, Delylah, and Elison, staring at her as she passed. She stared straight ahead, refusing to look at them. Let them wonder why she was being invited into the Dreadfort beside the kennelboy. Let them gossip. 

None of them could save her. At best, they could make it worse. So she held her head high as she ascended the steps, and walked into the castle. 

The kennelboy next to her was all but whimpering as they followed the courier down the halls. He was hunched, glancing side to side but never lagging behind. Yin eyed his bruises again, clearer now in the passing of hours, and tried to swallow her dread. 

When the courier led them down a staircase, into the bowels of the castle, the kennelboy began to shake. His tiny, scrawny body was raked with shivers and the furtive glances increased. He swallowed, his forced gulp echoing around the stone staircase. 

Then the staircase ended, and opened into a room. A bloodstained room, that smelled strongly of copper and fear. There was a massive X in the corner of the room, above a bloodstained grate. And Ramsay, sat in a chair in the center of the room. The courier bowed to Ramsay, and left without a word.


End file.
